Last Moments
by Djiacamo
Summary: A collection of stories that I've decided to start since the end of the second Torchwood series. First one is Owen. Might not be updated in a while. I DO NOT OWN TORCHWOOD ETC. forgot to put it in the document.


Oh My God! Spoiler alerts for the second series of Torchwood.

I cried my eyes out when Owen got shot, I cried even more when Jack brought him back and I thought he'd died again. Damn that Torchwood production team, they're too good at making me cry.

Anyway, I thought this up while I was watching episode 7 'Dead Man Walking.' Just a little of what Owen is thinking.

He couldn't feel anything; his nerve endings were unresponsive, his body cold and empty, he was dead. Yet he was still walking and talking.

He could see and hear and smell, but he couldn't feel. He couldn't feel another persons skin; the warmth and the texture, the little imperfections, the scars, the scabs, everything. He couldn't feel any of it.

He could feel anger, joy, grief, boredom, all of that emotional stuff stayed, as did his cynicism, sarcastic tongue and dry wit. But that hardly mattered to him; Gwen was hanging onto his neck, crying into his shoulder and he couldn't feel her. All he wanted was to feel the warmth of her body, the wet of her tears, the brush if her lashes against his neck.

Inside he was screaming in frustration as she pulled away from him, she sniffed and sorted herself out, and that was it; she out on a brave face. And so did he.

He didn't want to be frozen, but as he said, he couldn't sleep or eat or have sex, what was the point of him being there? And if it would help save the world he was up for it.

As he walked to the autopsy room he contemplated what it would be like to be frozen, he wondered if it would itch, or tingle. He wasn't entirely sure he'd feel anything, he hadn't been able to so far. He glanced back and gave Gwen a small smile; his mind was still roiling.

Ahead, he saw Ianto, he had mixed feelings about the coffee boy; Ianto was part of the team, he was smart and witty, he tried to put a positive edge on things. But also he was annoying as Hell, they didn't always get on, he was incessantly helpful and incredibly over protective.

Ianto's hand was resting on the rail, as he walked along the rail he brushed his unfeeling hand across the metal that he knew to be cold and silky. He wanted to say sorry and goodbye, but he couldn't make his voice work. He hoped that his vocal cords weren't freezing up, not that it mattered, he was just concerned.

He let his cold, senseless hand glide over Ianto's, knowing that the young Welshman would know what he meant with that one touch. Ianto's hand moved under his and he became aware that his hand was being squeezed. Ianto understood, and that gave him courage.

He'd given his goodbye and apology to Gwen and Ianto, he really wanted to spend hours saying them to Jack and Tosh, but he heard that fatal beep and Martha's voice; "95" No goodbyes then.

He told them just that and they all stared at him, the pain screaming out of their eyes. Jack's flat gaze pierced him as he sat on the table, he took a deep breath, not really needing it, and smiled.

Jack and Martha busied themselves with strapping him down and checking equipment. Tosh stared, teary-eyed, from the stairs. Gwen and Ianto watched from the raised walkway.

He watched Martha touch his hand as she tightened the straps, he could have made a lewd comment but he didn't, it wasn't the right time. His attention moved to Jack who was oh-so-business like. He wished he could fell, so desperately, just so he could feel that strange tingle that he got from Jack's touch. He had asked the others about it and they said they felt it too.

He averted his gaze from the procedure Jack and Martha were carrying out and stared at Tosh. She'd said it a couple of times, but now she stayed silent, only her eyes betrayed what she wanted to scream; 'I love you.' It was then that he realised that she did mean it, she always had.

He'd caught Tosh looking at him before, but had refused to accept what was glaringly obvious. He liked her too, he really liked her, but he'd never been inclined to get involved with her. Now he was regretting that decision, now he wished he'd spent more time with her. And now that time had run out he thought of a thousand things to say to her that he never ever would.

He had thought he was ready, he said he was ready, but he knew, he would never be ready. That was ok though, he could deal with that. He resigned himself to his fate and relaxed.

But then the unthinkable happened and the glove came to life. His second lot of last moments were lost, they were irrelevant now, his apologies and goodbyes gone to waste.

Now he was unsure of what his last moments were, was he going to have more? What would they be? Who would they be with? He knew though, he knew that he wanted his last moments to be with _his_ team, Jack and Gwen and Ianto and Tosh.

That's all Owen Harper wanted.


End file.
